


Things That Need Tending To

by spnsecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsecret/pseuds/spnsecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompt: "How about a Dean one - shot where he rescues you from a monster and tends to your injuries (among other things)."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Need Tending To

Dean had driven straight back to the bunker. A five hour drive. It was the most tense and quiet five hours you had ever experienced. He refused to talk to you. Wouldn't look at you. Sam had carried you to the car and placed you gently across the back seat. The gash across your calf made it hard for you to walk, not to mention the blood that gushed each time you tried to take a step. Dean had ripped off part of his shirt and wrapped it around your leg, then Sam scooped you up.

Once you were back at the bunker, Sam carried you in and Dean walked ahead of you. He slammed doors, threw down his car keys, and slammed his jacket onto a chair before heading toward he kitchen.

"Bring her to her room," he said over his shoulder.

"What am I, a child," you asked Sam as he walked toward the sleeping quarters.

"He's upset. It'll blow over."

"He's acting like I did something wrong."

"You charged into a vamp nest with no backup."

"I was the distraction."

"But you didn't tell us what you were planning."

"Because you wouldn't have let me do it."

"Exactly."

Sam gently placed you into the chair in your room, careful to avoid the gash on your calf. Dean came in just a moment later with a large towel, several small washcloths, and a basin of water.

"I got it, Sam," Dean said.

You and Sam exchanged a look, both of you worried that Dean might be a little too rough in his anger.

"Dean," Sam said, "I can--"

"I said I got it."

The look on Dean's face told Sam he should listen. Sam squeezed your shoulder and left the room. Dean handed you a couple of pain killers, then you watched as he laid the large towel over your bed where your legs would go. Then, without a word, he lifted you out of the chair and laid you on the bed. He carefully untied the bandage he had made out of his shirt, then used a pair of scissors to cut your jeans open and remove the leg, which had been ripped to shreds.

"Turn over," he said. He didn't even look at you.

"Dean, I--"

"Lie on your stomach. It'll make this easier."

You turned over with a wince, trying to avoid using the injured leg, and pulled a pillow under your head. Dean folded a couple of the larger washcloths and placed them under your leg, then dipped a smaller one in the water and squeezed it over your wound. He patted over the area, with a much gentler hand than you were expecting.

"What the hell were you thinking," Dean asked.

"We needed a distraction."

"So, you used yourself as bait? What kind of plan is that?"

"One that worked."

"We got lucky! You got hurt. It could have been so much worse."

"But it wasn't."

"That doesn't make it better."

You felt Dean pinching your wounds closed.

"These gashes aren't that deep," he said. "Butterfly bandages should get these closed up."

"Yeah, well, they feel like they went through to the bone."

Dean was silent. You muffled the grunts from the pain as Dean finished cleaning and bandaging your calf. He put a larger bandage over the entire area to keep it clean.

"Good news is, it's not bleeding like it was," he said. "You stay off that leg a couple days and you'll be fine. I saw some really old crutches in a supply closet. I'll get them for you later."

"Thanks."

Once the bandage was secure, you felt Dean rub his hand over it. His hand lingered there for a while.

"Are you done," you asked.

"Yeah," Dean said as he withdrew his hand. "All done."

He removed the bin of water and the wet towels from the bed, then helped you turn onto your back. You stared at him as he sat on the edge of your bed. He leaned forward with his elbows on his legs.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I should have told you and Sam what I wanted to do."

"You shouldn't have done it at all," he said as he turned to face you. "What if I couldn't have gotten to you? You could have gotten really hurt. More than you are now."

"But I--"

"Don't," he held up his hand. "Don't say you didn't. It doesn't matter. You could have. Do you get that?"

You sat up. "Yes, I get that, but that's what we do. We could get hurt every time we go on a case. It doesn't matter how careful we are. What we do is dangerous."

Dean stared at you for a moment, then reached out to run his thumb over your cheek.

"You have a cut here," he whispered.

"I didn't even notice."

Dean leaned over and wet one of the clean washcloths. He gently wiped the cut on your face as he held his other hand to your head to hold you still.

"Just a scratch," he said. "Doesn't even need a bandage."

He dropped the washcloth onto the pile on the floor, but his hand remained at the side of your head. His fingers began to rake though the hair at your temple.

"Dean..." you whispered, unsure of what you actually wanted to say.

You had loved Dean for so long, but you never expected that he felt the same. Now, his eyes traveled over your face, never quite meeting yours.

"When that vamp attacked you... I thought you were gone," he said. "Part of me just..." He didn't finish that sentence. His eyes finally locked with yours. "I can't lose you."

You took his free hand in yours, and his lips captured yours in a soft, slow kiss. There was a tightness in your chest, and a lump in your throat, brought on by the tenderness of his kiss. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours as he stroked your hair.

"I can't," he said. "Do you understand that?"

"I think I do." You pulled back and lifted his face to look into his eyes. "I can't lose you, either."

In that moment, everything clicked. There was understanding in his eyes, and you knew then that he felt the same way about you that you felt about him. His lips crashed onto yours as he lay you back onto the bed.

He climbed onto the bed and lay on top of you. His fingers combed through your hair as you kissed. Your hands traveled over his back and shoulders before sinking into his short hair. You wanted to touch him everywhere, all at once.

One of his hands traveled down between you and unbuttoned your shirt. He pulled each side open before he kissed from your mouth, across your jaw, and down your neck. You sucked in a breath when he licked over your collar bone.

"Dean..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Dean's lips continued their downward path to your breasts, and any thought that may have been trying to form faded away. He pulled the cups of your bra down and flicked his tongue across one of your nipples. Your entire body tensed at the sensation, and a jolt of sharp pain cut through your calf. You cried out, and Dean pulled back.

"What's wrong," he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

He ran his hand over your hair as he looked into your eyes.

"No. No, it's just... this kind of activity right after getting my leg sliced..."

"Probably not the best idea," he said as his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth.

"Probably not."

Dean smiled and kissed you as he righted your bra.

"So, we wait a couple of days," he said. "It'll be worth it."

"I never thought I'd see Dean Winchester saying he could wait for sex."

Dean moved to your side and maneuvered you so that you were backed up against him. His hand ran over your bare thigh as he kissed your neck.

"I'll help you tend to your wounds, and when those are healed... I'll help you tend to other things."


End file.
